


Dreaming Demons While You Sleep

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coma, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Full Moon, Valentine's Day, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the second full moon since Stiles was bitten; maybe this time he’ll be healed enough to wake up. Derek’s willing to wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Demons While You Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for prompt #57 - Valentine's Day at fullmoon_ficlet. It's not your traditional Valentine’s Day fic, but I needed to do the full moon on 2/14 thing, and I wanted to do a possible coda to the episode right beforehand. So here we are. As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“I can’t—”

“Go.” Derek puts all the emphasis he can into the word. “Go out. You need Allison and Isaac. We don’t need a repeat of last month.”

Scott hesitates at the door, looking past Derek to the still form in the bed beyond. “He’s going to wake up…”

“And I’ll be here when he does,” Derek assures him. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Scott. If he were here, he’d tell you to get out and get some ass.”

The smile flickers, slightly rueful but laughing a little as well. “Probably, yes, but he _is_ here. He’s _right there_ , Derek.” Scott gestures, and Derek half expects that Stiles will move, roll over, say something to back him up.

Of course he doesn’t. He hasn’t moved or said a word in a month and a half.

Except for during January’s full moon.

“We don’t need a repeat of last month.” Derek puts his hands on Scott’s shoulders, turns him and nudges him out the door. “I’ve already had this argument with the sheriff and your mother. This is for your own good, Scott. It’s the full moon. You need to be with your anchors.”

“I need to be with my best friend.”

“I’ll be here.” Derek points at the chair. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

It isn’t that simple, of course, and it takes several more rounds of the argument before Scott is finally on his way to meet Allison, Isaac on the back of his bike. Derek sinks into the chair once he’s gone, exhausted by two rounds of arguing (it wasn’t any easier to convince Melissa and the sheriff to keep the dinner reservation that Derek had made for them). He reaches for Stiles’s hand on the bed, entwining their fingers.

“So, your dad and Melissa McCall.” Derek turns Stiles’s hand over, looking at his palm. “You saw that start, but I don’t know how much you’ll remember of it. You’d lost most of your coherence at the end. Scott’s still afraid we waited too long, that him hesitating is why you’re not back to us yet. But you’re alive. There’s no black blood. I know you’re just healing.”

He considers the quiet features. Stiles is boyish in sleep, all traces of the demon gone from his visage. “It took Peter years to come back,” Derek murmurs. “I hope you don’t make us wait that long.”

There isn’t any answer, but Derek doesn’t expect one. He never expects much, not when he sits here. But he _will_ sit here, as often as they let him. He won’t let Stiles go through this alone. His thumb slides along slender fingers, a small wry smile lifting his lips. “I’d take the pain, but there isn’t any. You’re just… not here. Not with us, not now. Deaton thinks your body’s shut down to heal, while the wolf side repairs the damage done by the disease. He’s confident you’ll come back. The only thing we don’t know is when.”

Derek can feel the moon slipping under his skin, calling the wolf out. Scents become sharper, his teeth elongate. He can control it easily, but he doesn’t. He lets the wolf slide free, howling as he wraps long fingers around Stiles’s wrist, claws tipped and touching the skin.

He hears the rough exhalation and looks down to see Stiles’s eyes snap open, bright blue and shining. He gasps, body bowing, lifting from the bed; Derek has to jump up and push him down, using all his body weight as Stiles thrashes beneath him.

There is nothing human in him now, only the wolf struggling to get free, howling loudly. There’s a ping from Derek’s phone and he knows that Scott’s asking about the sound he can hear and feel under his skin.

Derek doesn’t have time for that, for anything but the boy beneath him as he tries to call the human out, begs him quietly to push past the wolf and take control.

“I know you’re in there,” Derek whispers harshly. “I know you’re there, Stiles. The nogitsune didn’t break you. It didn’t break your _mind_. You’re _healing_ and you’re _coming back to me_.” He inhales roughly, lets it out and corrects himself. “You’re coming back to _us_.”

Stiles whines, gasps… falls back onto the bed, eyes rolling up as he shudders. Derek clings to him, lying next to him and trying to wrap him in pack scent. He murmurs things that make no sense, sounds without words, anything to speak to Stiles’s wolf and to try to find the human inside.

When Stiles quiets, the wolf disappears as abruptly as it came, leaving Stiles shivering in Derek’s arms. It is unexpected. In January Stiles raged the entire night, his mind fled and the wolf in control. “Stiles?” Derek murmurs softly, leaning up so he can touch his face and seek a response.

“Why are you hugging me, dude?” Stiles’s voice is pure gravel, rough and hoarse with disuse. “Oh fuck, my head hurts.”

Derek lets his fingers drift over Stiles’s jaw, black tendrils trying to steal the pain away. “It’s probably your brain regrowing,” he deadpans, as if that is even humorous. Stiles snorts, which makes Derek smile.

“I’m alive,” Stiles says quietly. “How long has it been?”

“Six weeks. You missed Christmas, it’s a new year. On the other hand,” Derek shrugs one shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day. And welcome to your first coherent full moon.”

“Am I a…?”

Derek nods. “Blue-eyed,” he confirms. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles huffs a sigh. “Don’t be.” He closes his eyes and Derek can smell the exhaustion coming off of him. “I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re still healing.” Derek lies down, unwilling to let him go just yet. Stiles curls into him, as if the anchor is something he needs. “Sleep.” He pauses, then adds softly, “I’m glad you’re back.”

He can feel the smile where Stiles’ face presses against his shoulder. “I’m glad to be back.”


End file.
